


Crime

by akaiyuzu



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: (except i cant write anything under 1k it seems), Angst, Drabble, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaiyuzu/pseuds/akaiyuzu
Summary: realm-of-spells asked:3 - "Please don't leave" for renkuri (O3O)





	Crime

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote angst. actual angst. wild, i know. (sex is explicit but not Very explicit. is kind of in the background. lol)

"Clear... We have to go back."

Ren stands beside Clear, holding an umbrella over his downcast head. The unrelenting rain pounds into the beaten dirt of the cemetery, drenches the lawn and glides down the black canopy of Ren's umbrella. It drips copiously onto Ren's shoulder, but he pays it no mind.

It takes one second too long for the head of fluffy white hair to tilt towards Ren. Clear's hollow gaze leaves the tombstone in front of them, fixing itself on Ren's golden eyes.

 _Doesn't suit him._ To Ren, Clear's eyes were made to glimmer with glee and his lips were made for the irregular bow of a smile. Every line of his face was sculpted and idealized to stretch around palpable happiness. So it feels like a crime to be faced with the tight, straight line of his pale lips, the quietly roaring despair in his rosy eyes.

"Where's Aoba-san?" Clear asks, voice barely above a whisper and nearly overpowered by the constant hiss of the rain.

A wince flashes across Ren's features, but it's gone as soon as it appears.

"He's already left with Granny and everyone else. You and I are the last ones still here."

"Oh..." is Clear's answer, almost a simple exhale.

The boy seems about to go back to staring blankly at his grandfather's tombstone, and Ren is resigning himself to wait for another hour. However, Clear straightens up and smiles at Ren.

This smile is completely wrong, and it's with the impulse of a silent scream that every hair in Ren's body prickles up in rejection.

"Sorry you had to wait for me, Ren-san."

Ren shakes his head slightly. "I stayed out of my own will."

"I see... In that case, thank you. We should leave now, right?"

"Yeah." Ren turns back and glances in the direction of the cemetery's entrance. The rain seems to fall heavier and heavier by the second, to the point his umbrella is becoming more like a decorative piece.

"I wonder how long it'll take before we get to the bus stop and until the bus actually rides by this place," Ren mutters to himself.

"My house is closer. We'll have to walk a bit more, but we won't need to sit around waiting in drenched suits," Clear reasons as he gestures to their ruined attire.

Ren scrutinizes him for long seconds, then nods his assent.

The hem of their pants becomes more muddied up with each step they take. Even though Ren is almost halfway out of his umbrella's cover, it still isn't enough to completely protect Clear from the rain—they're both broad-shouldered, after all.

It could be enough, if only Ren slung an arm around Clear's waist, if he pulled Clear closer to his side. Ren won't do that, though. He lacks the guts, or rather, the certainty that he'll be able to keep himself together if Clear pushes him away.

Since the moment they met, over four years ago, Ren has known he has romantic feelings for Clear. For almost as long, Ren has also been certain that Clear has eyes only for Aoba. Even when Aoba never responded to his feelings and started dating Koujaku, his love didn't once falter. Time and again, he'll throw himself at Aoba's feet, and let him trample over his one-sided feelings.

Of course, Aoba doesn't have a clue. He'd never be this cruel if he knew, but still, he is. Ren doesn't know if he loves and loathes him for it, but he knows he hates himself for the possessiveness and egoism clawing at his heart, slithering their way into his relationship with Aoba, one he's valued since childhood.

Without asking, Ren knows the pain of Clear's unrequited love has become dear to him. In the same way, Ren's pure affection has turned into bitter resignation, an ever-burning thirst drying his tongue as he glances at the wisps of white hair on Clear's flushed-pink neck, the long lines of his neck and collarbones. At every side-long glance Clear throws Aoba, Ren thinks of shoving him against the nearest wall.

Feelings change. Feelings that grow in the dark, distant from one's eye and care, become ugly, wretched.

Beating the mud off the soles of their shoes, they slip them off their feet by the entrance and enter Clear's house.

"Do you want some hot cocoa?" Clear asks Ren pleasantly, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He's shivering from the cold, and Ren can't say he's much better.

"No, thank you. Don't mind me."

Clear smiles kindly at him. "I must have some clothes that fit you. Feel free to look into my wardrobe; I'll see if there's any hot water in the shower."

Ren looks on as Clear throws his jacket on the kitchen counter on his way to the bathroom, and remains rooted in his spot as the door clicks shut behind Clear. Only when Ren listens to the sound of the shower running does he sigh and turn to the door that he remembers to lead into Clear's bedroom.

It's been at least two years since the last time he's been here, and he doesn't think much has changed. Despite Clear's cheerful personality, the room is surprisingly bare, if not for the numerous glasses and bright knick-knacks sitting on wooden shelves built into the wall.

Ren walks into the dark room, lit only by the thin strip of light spilling through the crack of the door. Unbothered, Ren undresses himself blindly. Slowly but surely, his eyes get used to the dark, and the outlines of Clear's bed and the curtains draped over his window etch themselves in his vision.

How many times Clear has touched himself in this bed, Ren wonders. How many times he brought himself to the brink of pleasure, imagining it was Aoba's fingers on him instead. And then, how many times did he cry himself to sleep, knowing it was him alone and it'd be him alone every time after that.

Ren reaches for a stray piece of clothing on the corner of the bed; a white dress-shirt. Without thinking too hard on it, he fists both hands into the fabric and crumples it against his face, letting the dizzyingly sweet scent numb his senses.

So lost he is in the mouth-watering aroma of citrus and chocolate, Ren never hears the door opening wider and steps moving closer. He only catches himself when a warm, undoubtedly naked body presses against his own from behind—scorching breath beating on the shell of his ear, chest flush against his back, and what he quickly realizes is a hard cock, hot against the curve of his ass.

Out of surprise or in a panicked attempt to hide what he's be doing, Ren simply drops the shirt. If Clear has taken notice of his earlier actions, he says nothing.

Instead, Clear clutches at Ren's waist, blunts nails sinking into his skin without reserve and rocking his hips against Ren's backside. Fire licks up his spine from that point of contact and Ren shudders, growling low in his throat.

No words are said between the movements of Clear's arms twisting Ren around and pushing him into his bed. Even when the neurons in Ren's brain are finally popping back into activity and language is something that makes sense again, Clear harshly bites into his lips and licks and sucks all traces of a sound mind out of him.

It's in his rosy eyes. Clear's been pushed to the limits of his loneliness, his inadequacy and finally, his grief. He doesn't speak of how his grandfather has been the only support he's known since birth, his only source of unconditional love and care and now he's gone forever. Clear doesn't speak of how much it hurts, how afraid he is of being alone, doesn't ask for any consoling words.

Ren knows everything without needing to hear it. He also knows this is Clear trying to assuage his pain by torturing himself further, and he knows it didn't need to be _him_ here. Through the thick haze of fear and self-hatred in his eyes, Ren doesn't see himself reflected.

Still, he sprawls his hands on Clear's shoulder blades like spider webs, trapping him in that bed, embedding his teeth in any expense of skin he can reach. Clear's resulting moans warble and distort into what could be interpreted as either laughter or sobbing. Ren decides he can be whoever Clear wants him to be now—even Aoba. This will be his only chance to be with him like this, so he stays quiet.

Clear's skin is glittering with sweat and dotted with red and purple marks when he drops a thin bottle of lube on Ren's chest. His hazy eyes never lock with Ren's, and he doesn't wait for a reaction of any kind before tilting his hips up and sinking dry fingers into himself. He's whimpering and Ren watches budding tears slipping down Clear's ruddy cheeks, trickling onto Ren's chest.

Ren is trembling violently under him, hands clenching and unclenching, uncertain if he wants to brush those tears away or make him cry more.

Clear yells out as Ren's cock drills into him, and between hoarse moans and the creaking bed springs, it's the most rampant noise in the room since they started this. However, what follows rattles Ren the most, tearing into the pleasant, mind-numbing fog he's let himself be drawn into.

"Ren..." Clear sighs, and the name thins out like the ending notes of an old song.

Ren stops breathing, stops moving. Something snaps in his chest, and traitorous warmth spreads to the rest of his body, to his lower and upper members, getting to his head. Like venom, like alcohol buzzing euphoric in his veins, but sure to give him hell in the morning. Ren's shivering starts anew with an entirely different reason to be, and he's suddenly very aware, and very terrified.

Why is Clear calling out his name now? What will be of Ren, having heard it this one time and knowing it'll never happen again?

Ren scrambles to sit up and extract himself from Clear, who yelps in surprise.

"No- Ren, please don't...!"

Clear's arms lock around Ren's neck in a vice grip, and his legs desperately coil around Ren's waist as well. Ren is the one who ends up trapped, eyes wide and muscles tensed up.

"Ren... Ren-san... Please, don't leave," Clear whispers, pained, _expectant_.

A choked gasp leaves Ren's lips, and he hurries to bite them shut. It does nothing to stop the burning tears pushing against his eyelids, the knot swelling in his throat and threatening to suffocate him to death.

Words which are, at once, so sweet and so deceptive.

Ren lets Clear push him into the bed once again, feels him clench around him as if echoing his earlier plea with his whole body. Tears spill over the sides of Ren's face. In that moment, Ren pretends and prays quietly, just this once, that he can be what Clear needs, exactly for who he is.


End file.
